So let's get it poppin- anybody else grow up with a serial killer?

Somebody threw my third grade class photo up on teh Facebooks last weekend. Bowl cuts, Cub Scout uniforms, and exactly why two people had their pictures scratched out were the immediate topics of conversation. But eventually Perry Carl Monroe came up.

First of all, I am now 100% convinced that the reason serial killers all have three names is not that they all have three names, but because we are all not the special snowflakes we think we are. There are several people walking around this planet with your name. My government name is actually kinda funky, yet I know it is far from unique. Perry Carl Monroe is just the name used so as to not fuck it up for the other Perry Monroe's out there. So from here on out, he will go by Perry Monroe.

Perry Monroe was not in our third grade class. I went to GATE with him and played baseball against him in elementary school though. He was a quiet dude. In class, it was actually the pleasant, mellow kind of quiet. I guess he was actually homecoming king in high school. But there did seem to be something a tad off about him when we played ball. He pitched as soon as we were old enough to do it, and he clearly did not have the temperament for it. He was all of our introduction to the concept of somebody getting rattled. Oh, the psychological chess game that is nine-year-old little league (probably supposed to be capitalized, but fuck them). After that season, I don't remember him being a factor in the game in the slightest as we all grew up.

We went to different high schools. We went to college together for a year, which I may or may not have been aware of at some point, but I don't really know because I smoke a lot of weed. So from the time he was meat on the mound to say maybe five years ago, I had not spent too much time wondering what Perry Monroe had been up to. Until I was hanging out with the folks and my mom told me the deal.

I tried to find one nice, neat page to hotlink to tell the fucked up story of Perry Monroe, but apparently you have to just Google dude and then put together the pieces for yourself. One night po-po rousted him as he was sleeping in his car in Fresno (of course). He had a trunk full of body parts. I think they were all of the same person, but I've heard and seen things saying there were heads or hands from multiple women. He was charged with the murder of one woman in Nevada in I believe 2005, and was institutionalized after been found unfit for trial. Paranoid schizophrenia. One thing I read tried to get all mysterious about him disappearing into the NV mental health system and nobody having any idea where he is. Ooooo, scary!


And then he got let out and was arrested for attempting the same shit.

Now he's become a potential suspect for a handful or two of murders and disappearances, including Laci Peterson. The first Google hit under his name is "perry monroe serial killer extraordinaire." It sits a little better when you follow the link and realize there's supposed to be a question mark at the end of that. But still... jeez. It's not the craziest shit I've ever read either, for whatever that's worth. Regardless of how much truth there is to the speculation beyond what he was outright convicted of, I'm assuming by now he's locked down enough for me to anonymously comment on what a shitty little league pitcher he was.